The Demon's Mate

"Stand up" the man ordered, his tone harsh. A booted foot appeared through the gap between her knees. At that moment her heart almost stopped. Nirelle squeezed her eyes tight. She prayed silently, Let it not be me. Luck wasn't on her side. A few seconds of silence, then the boot hit her rib hard. Another harsh command followed. She scrambled to her feet, shaking like a leaf on a windy day. she could barely stand, eyes down on her dirty feet. "I can see you haven't been properly trained as a slave. Who the hell brought you here?" he asked, anger coming off him in waves. Nirelle was terrified. She peeked from beneath her lashes and gulped. Her knees were shaking so bad she thought she would fall. Her whole body was cold with sweat. She wanted to disappear. She wanted to go back to the corner, face to the wall, even with the stench of sixty bodies. At least there, no one looked at her. At least there, she was invisible. The man before her was huge and buffy; he completely dwarfed her. She was only four foot ten so the difference was too much. A long, jagged scar ran across his left eye, which made him look even scarier. His loud voice attracted the other two. The man and woman walked up and stood right in front of her, looking her from head to toe. The woman had elegant, fiery red hair. The other man was short, round, and older than his companions. "Head up" the woman said quietly. Nirelle obeyed right away. In the slave house they taught her—never look anyone higher than you in the eye. As a slave at the bottom, that meant everybody. She kept her gaze below their chins, throat dry, hands fisted so tight her nails dug into her palms. "She'll do just fine" the woman said. The men nodded. "She needs proper cleanup before we present her" the fat man said. His voice was raspy. The woman circled her, eyes dragging over every detail. When she stood before her again, she said, "Follow me." She walked off and didn't even check if Nirelle followed. Nirelle forced her locked knees to move. She was jittery with fear, but she followed. Behind her, sixty pairs of eyes watched, some relieved it wasn't them, some pitying her. Once they walked out, the door shut tight behind them with a clang. The sound made her flinch. It sounded final, like a coffin. They walked through a long passage and burst out into the sunshine. Nirelle went blind. Being in the dark for days had made her eyes sensitive. She blinked and blinked, eyes watering, but she didn't wipe them. She felt the warmth all over. She had forgotten what sun felt like. The courtyard was empty. The air smelled like wet earth and wildflowers. It smelled like freedom. And it hurt. She thought of her old life before the slave house, before the betrayal. Before the two people she trusted most sold her off. The thought came sharp and fast, and she pushed it down. She couldn't cry now because crying made them angry. She had learned that the hard way in the first week. her throat burned from holding it in. For three days in that cell she prayed. First she prayed to escape. Then she only prayed for a kind master. Now, standing in the sun in her thin brown sack, golden hair matted and brown with dirt, she wasn't sure God listened to slaves at all. She tilted her face to the sky like a child, eyes closed. Sunlight fell on her hair, on her pale skin, and on the sack they gave her at the slave house. For a second she wasn't a slave. She was just a girl. Eighteen, broken, but still a girl who once loved the sun. She opened her eyes, trying to memorize the blue. Trying to swallow the sky after months of black. Because she knew, once they cleaned her and presented her, she might never see the sky again. Especially if a supernatural being bought her. Every slave knew the stories about how supernaturals used humans for food and pleasure. They starved them, beat them, and broke them. And then she felt it. A prickle on her neck. A heavy feeling of being watched. Nirelle froze. Slowly she lowered her gaze. In her periphery, high above.In a window, someone was there. Her heart started to pound so loud she was sure the woman would hear it. A tall man stood behind the glass. Still like a statue. He wore black—no, deep purple that looked black in shadows. His hair was dark as night. She couldn't see his eyes from this far, but she could feel them. He was staring directly at her. Not casual. Like he had been waiting. Like he knew she would be here. Nirelle's breath caught. He didn't move. Hands behind his back, face you can't read. But his stare pinned her in place. She had been invisible in that cell for days, hiding her face against the wall. Now, for the first time in months, someone really saw her. The sun was still warm, but suddenly she felt cold. She should run, but her feet didn't move. She should look away, but she couldn't. This stranger, this man in the tower looked at her like she was the only light in his endless darkness. Like she belonged to him already. Wind passed, lifting her golden hair. Up in the window, the man tilted his head a little. Like he was memorizing her too, like he liked what he saw. Nirelle's lips parted. 'Who are you' She didn't say it loud. But her eyes asked, and for a second she swore his lips curved. Not a smile. Something darker. Something possessive. Something that made her stomach drop. Then a hand slammed down on her shoulder from behind. "Move!" She screamed.